🇪🇬🇨🇾🇹🇷 No Sooner Than Now

Hello Adventurers, 

This past week has been challenging. I didn’t enjoy the provocations or the obstacles I encountered, but I welcomed each and every one of them. And not in the moment, but in the reflection afterwards.

I can’t say I deserve to be doing the Marathon Earth Challenge more than anyone else, but I will say that I have forged some unique capabilities as well as some deep capacities for enduring trouble (ruthlessly cultivated by slogging tens of thousands of kilometres by foot; alone and abroad in all conditions where I’m often exposed and sometime vulnerable). Said another way, I recognize this project is a luxury…but this week demonstrated to me that I’ve put in the time, built the skills, and humbly earned a kick at the can.

Despite many invitations, I’ve never had a desire to do a marathon on a closed course, be it cordoned off streets or demarcated trail or whatever the expression of such would — or could — be. Mostly, because I loathe a foot race’s demand for speed and competition and order (and feel similarly about the rat race). And sorta because group activities don’t speak to me. But really, I do what I do because I want to physically move through the ‘no holds barred’ gauntlet of life…in the actual world; which spans the beautiful to the brutal. Why? Because such helps me better understand the universe within me, which too spans the beautiful and the brutal.

My ‘take’ on marathons is a freestyle one: there’s no set course, no water stations, no porta potties, no medics, no crew, no officials, and no one to bail me out. There’s just me…racking up kilometres until I hit 43 of ‘em. And that’s not better — or worse — than what a traditional definition of a marathon is. Me versus theirs…it’s not that, because it’s apple to oranges.

Me? I’m just into a different kind of ‘squeeze’, and up to this point I’ve been unsure how to creatively relay getting squeezed by the world on the occasional marathon. On one hand, I don’t care to overly moan since woe-is-me writing isn’t engaging (especially since this project is 100% elective), but on the other hand I’m not painting a complete picture of what this project occasionally demands of me. Rather, I’ve just been sharing pictures of ‘places been’…and haven’t said much about what it sometimes takes to take them, be it place or photo.

But it took a lot to make the dispatch happen; pulled out of a marathon magician’s hat in Egypt and Cyprus…for this single newsletter issue that recounts four marathons in two different continents…by one person going at it alone as others were having a go at me. So let’s go, and let’s get into it.

- Ben Pobjoy

2023 TREK TRACKER

Where in the world...record am I?

• Countries visited: 22

• Flights taken: 30

• Kilometres flown: 49,965

• Marathons completed: 82

• Kilometres trekked by foot: 3,860.1

• Total kilometres trekked since 2015: 66,951

THE LAST MONTH: IN REVIEW

Stats and anecdotes from April 2023

The fourth month of my Marathon Earth Challenge is behind me, and it was a bit messy; the first half was spent in Toronto tying up loose ends, and the second half was spent on the road. Results-wise, I banged out 20 marathons and 921.5 kilometres by foot…which is decent. However, I ended the month at ‘79 marathons completed since the start of the year’, and I’m one marathon behind where I want to be (in order to break the world record by year’s end).

Planning, re-upping gear, meetings, and goodbyes consumed more time in Toronto than I anticipated, but my learnings from Q1 2023 informed how I structured my schedule / itinerary for Q2 2023, and I’ve been operating more efficiently on the road (where I’m now averaging more marathons per week than I did in Q1 2023). Basically, I’m not worried. Actually, I’m quite confident that I’ll be at more than 120 marathons by the end of Q2 2023.

Physically, it was a topsy-turvy month…mostly because I started it out by rotating / trialing five different pairs of shoes in Toronto before I locked into the Norda 001s for my travels, and that process threw my body for a loop. I don’t know how to explain it, but shoes become a very real extension of me, and my body adapts to them after a few marathons…so when I do ‘shoe switcheroo’ per marathon, my body reacts with inconsistent aches and pains in my feet, knees or hips (courtesy of the different shoes’ fit or sole hardness or heel drop or whatever else).

Given this ‘switcheroo process’ happened over the course of a few weeks, I started to wonder if my body was busted (‘cause it was nagging at different points in the ‘shoe trial’ process)…and that started to mess with my mind. But, I’ve rounded the bend: the Norda 001s now feel natural, and my body has adjusted (and my mind went ‘phew!’ and the doubts diminished).

Furthermore, the non-waterproof Nordas are more breathable than my previous waterproof Nikes, and in conjunction with switching to slim and sleek Near Earth socks (from having worn thicker merino socks), my feet have never felt better…like I don’t have any blisters or rawness or black toes (with the exception of one that’s still healing from my previous shoe / sock setup in Q1 2023). Overall, this is revolutionary for me…so all praise to Norda and Near Earth!

In addition, my pals at Ciele Athletics kindly hooked me up with a load of complimentary gear for the Q2 2023 ‘leg’ of my Marathon Earth Challenge, and the difference in comfort is night and day. Previously, I just bought pretty basic athleisure wear (like entry-level Nike stuff from Sport Chek) for my marathons ‘cause said expenses were outta pocket. But Ciele‘s premium technical wear is on a whole ‘nother level: their bucket hat is incredibly breathable (and has an integrated drawstring system that effectively keeps the hat on my head in heavy winds…which is a marked improvement from the over-the-chin drawstring my previous bucket hat had…which sorta drove me crazy), their raincoat is mind-boggling; somehow so light in weight yet so waterproof (and it has all these interior pockets that prevent me from getting pickpocketed), their shorts have the most thoughtful pocket system as well as ‘snap releases’ on the sides (that let you turn them into near-briefs for maximum range of motion and airflow), and their shirt is by far the most breathable and lightest tee I’ve ever worn (and has slits in the sides that let the breeze in). I mention this all because I went from basic gear to the best gear, and the latter is truly worth the investment (like if you’re on the fence about buying stuff like this). Bad analogy, but it’s like I went from trying to cut raw tomatoes with a wooden spoon to cutting tomatoes with the sharpest, and most thoughtfully designed / no details-spared knife.

And my mind? It’s in a really good place; because my feet and my body are really comfortable, and because my brain is going to lots of new-to-me countries on this ‘leg’ of the Marathon Earth Challenge.

*A note on transparency: I’m not paid by any of the brands I’ve mentioned nor do I have any professional relations with them.

RAPID WEEKLY RECAP

A speedy synopsis for time-crunched readers

• The Wildest Thing: Disembarking Egyptians stampeding towards the immigration booths at the Cairo International Airport. Instead of entering the stanchions and queuing (like most people do around the world), they slid under them and budded in front of one another, and generally just pushed each other out of the way to get to the front of the line😲

• The Biggest Obstacle: Adolescent Gizans hurling rocks at me from apartment buildings as I marathoned🥴

• The Lesson Learned: Unfortunately, when it comes to cultivating character…mean streets are more fertile than easy street😤

FIELD NOTES: CAIRO & GIZA, EGYPT

City of dust and rubble

My time in Cairo was both a nightmare and a dream. While the city’s size / height / sprawl / shady back alleys / labyrinth layout / crumbling conditions, its whopping metro area population of nearly 22 million people, and its wild traffic by way of aggressively-driven cars / motorbikes / auto rickshaws are all collectively intimidating, none of it objectively scared me…let alone bothered me (because I’ve experienced similar stuff on ‘marathon trips’ past, and know how to navigate it…as well as navigate my sympathetic nervous system’s response to it).

What was unrelenting, was the hostility I endured and/or the fairly persistent attempts to scam me or set me up for a shakedown. While I did not go looking for trouble in Cairo, trouble finds you there near-hourly if you traverse it by foot. As such, one would likely have a radically different experience there if one stuck to cabs…or participated in those group tour ‘urban safaris’ on those air conditioned shuttle busses (full of gawking tourists that fear the figurative heat of the streets).

Anyway, on my two marathons there (both executed in broad daylight), approximately 15 locals came up to me and yelled “Fuck you” or “Fuck your mother” in my face and/or in my direction, four cashiers were unsuccessful in trying to shortchange me at cash tills, three different kids on three different occasions threw rocks at me from balconies (in three different areas of Giza), a couple people grabbed at me (but there was nothing to snatch), and one young woman physically jumped onto me to try and distract me as her posse advanced my way to presumably try and roll me. And beyond that, there’s just this bogus network of young ‘welcoming-presenting locals’ telling you the attractions you’re approaching are ‘closed for prayer’ when they’re not (as said people attempt to re-route you to cafés with inflated prices of which they receive a kickback). And there’s this hustle where stores informally employ young people through kickbacks to roam the streets as ‘kind locals’ to lure tourists into ‘cool shops to check out’ where the store staff try and gift you ‘free things’ but then automatically claim you stole them (and threaten to call the cops if you don’t pay). I didn’t get roped into the latter, but I saw two sets of visitors who did (and for the crappiest and kitschiest papyrus art).

Basically, Cairo demanded my absolute ‘A’ game in terms of maximum alertness to as-safely-as-I-could marathon its maze of streets, avoid being run over by its vehicles, and systematically shut down those tryin’ to step to me. It wasn’t relaxing, but the following things were rewarding (and the overall experience was a dream that awakened me to my doggedness).

And head’s up: Egypt requires an e-visa for citizens from 78 different countries. If you intend to visit, see if your country is on the list, and formally apply here.

In Cairo, I stayed in the north end of Zamalek, a manmade island which is flanked by the Nile. While the waterway didn’t look — or feel — that different from other celebrated rivers like the Thames or the Seine (or whatever else you want to include in that camp), I was nevertheless delighted to see it with my own eyes because of its contribution to the fertile crescent aka ‘the cradle of civilization’.

Anecdotally, I had a pleasant time staying in a rank-smelling, no-natural-light, cheap-AF Airbnb in Zamalek. The latter is a somewhat moneyed area, and I stayed within earshot of ‘embassy row’ where there’s loads of blast walls and tons of armed forces clutching assault riffles.

All the Egyptians in this enclave were genuinely nice and legitimately welcoming…so much so that when I accidentally dropped the equivalent of $8 USD in Egyptians Pound notes on the sidewalk (after having bought water from a sidewalk kiosk), a young teenager chased me down to return it in full (and I had to argue with him for a good five minutes to let me give him some money for a coffee..as a way for me to show my gratitude for his kind act…the money of which he earnestly refused…until I physically placed the money in his palm, closed my hands around his then playfully spun him around to go off in the opposite direction…to the amusement of his friend…who ‘propped me’ with a fist bump). In short, there are some really good people in Cairo…I just didn’t meet a lot of them.

I knew Cairo had opulent landmarks, grand boulevards, and impressive public spaces (like Tahrir Square, which I visited ‘cause of its role in the Arab Spring). But what I didn’t know before visiting, was how busted a lot of Cairo is…being something I only personally discovered when marathoning through the city’s smaller streets as well as its various neighbourhoods.

Structures are in states of disrepair, there’s rubble everywhere, empty lots full of garbage, and occasional dotings of human faeces in some pretty bold places. In certain parts, it feels like this city was recently bombed, and is waiting to be cleaned up and rebuilt post-war…but that’s not the case.

Anyway, I visited the City of the Dead, which is a graveyard complex that’s hundreds and hundreds of years old. And the northern cemetery mirrored the city; crumbling and falling apart. And in one’s expiration here, it’s ashes to ashes, and dusty life to dusty death…and in that way, Cairo is at least consistent.

I dealt with stone-pelting bullshit marathoning through Giza before I was greeted by a crooked cashier at the Pyramids (who tried to shortchange me upon arrival). However, the multi-pronged hassle was totally worth it.

Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect…because the nearly 5,000 year-old Great Pyramid of Giza is the last of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World that’s still standing (so there’s nothing from the OG grouping to compare and contrast it with).

But IRL and up-close, it’s pretty spectacular; from the size of the base to the height of the structure. Like, it really is something I wish everyone could see…because it’s so impressive and mesmerizing and weird. And I just tried my best to capture that ‘feel’ in the photo above.

My time in Egypt was a pain in the ass, but seeing the Great Pyramid of Giza validated the visit. And I’m thankful it did…because I’d be butthurt otherwise.

Under the cliffs of Mokkattam Mountain, is the Monastery of St. Simon the Tanner. And despite its olden appearance, it is relatively young (built in 1975 by the Zabbaleen who are mostly Coptic Orthodox…with a wild, on-going history of hardship). This place sits 20,000, is free to visit, and I went…because I’ve always wanted to go to the Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Denver (and this felt like the next best thing).

I will never glorify, romanticize or trivialize poverty. However, my marathon through Manshiyat Naser aka Garbage City was unbelievably fascinating. Essentially, it is a slum inhabited by the Zabbaleen, and Cairo’s garbage is delivered to them in this very urban settlement, and the Zabbaleen sort through it for anything of value…and I have never observed anything like it before.

On very general appearances (or at least from afar), this neighbourhood is like most other neighbourhoods; it has high-rises and restaurants and shops and cafés and markets, and all the comings-and-goings of daily life. And that’s where the similarities end, because this place has an acrid odour, is covered in flies, garbage is piled high in alleyways (and is bulging out of apartment balconies and windows), and you see locals walking livestock into building foyers…presumably up to where they live in apartments?

Observing the near-industrial processes in a high-density, urban / residential neighbourhood was peculiar; especially as different families are specialists in ‘picking’ for particular things (e.g. textiles, bottles, etc). The photographer in me wanted to snap a million images, but I think ‘poverty porn’ is low-hanging, rotten fruit…hence why my permission-based approach is often more conservative, compassionate, and social documentary in nature (and why ‘place’ is more prominent than people in the Manshiyat Naser image I shared). But, I’d encourage you to read more about this place, because the ingenuity and the tenacity there truly warrants it.

As an aside, the kindest people I met on the streets of Cairo resided in Manshiyat Naser. And I can’t tell you why…happenstance? Something to do with their lot in life or their Coptic Orthodox faith? Really, it could’ve had as much to do with kids just thinking my big red beard was funny, and twenty somethings thinking my tattoos were cool, and old blokes thinking my little running shorts were a strange lewk (all of these were points of conversations there). All I know is that I chatted with a lot of locals here (from grade school kids to seniors), shook a lot of hands, and everyone welcomed me…while no one tried to hustle me.

On my way out, I stopped at a butcher shop because its unrefrigerated and fly-covered street meat caught my eye…as did a dogpile of live, cute rabbits atop a plastic bakery tray.

The butcher asked me if I wanted one butchered…but I declined, explaining that I don’t eat meat…which he seemed to understand. He then grabbed a rabbit by the scruff and handed it to me saying, “Take! As pet! You have!”…and the interaction made my final marathon in Cairo magical, with no need take the rabbit…let alone pull it out of my black bucket hat.

FIELD NOTES: CYPRUS & TURKISH REPUBLIC OF NORTHERN CYPRUS

Different sides of same coin and/or two altogether different coins

I’m embarrassed to admit that up until about a week ago, I didn’t know that Cyprus was geographically part of Asia. And I don’t know if I can be faulted because Cyprus is a well-known member of the European Union…and me discovering that Asians can be EU members makes the ‘EU-as-Euro-cultural-entity-rather-than-geographical-entity’ that much more of an abstract thing-to-me (i.e. us humans are so weird in our conditional-yet-rule-bending tribalism).

Anyway, I went to Cyprus knowing it’d be chill, and went there to give my sympathetic nervous system a break. For me to be safe and successful on this project, I need to stay sharp. And there are certain places like Cairo that — by virtue of their unrelentingness — dull one’s response mechanisms (because they demand non-stop, rapid-fire decision making…which is really draining when unending). And when I find myself in that punch-drunk type of state, it isn’t good; I become less alert and more careless, and such invites danger.

So I went to the easternmost island in the Mediterranean Sea for the express purpose of resetting myself back to optimal sharpness (by way of a tranquil place where I’d be left alone). Basically, I didn’t want to do any thinking…yet I found my time in Cyprus to be immensely interesting and thought provoking.

The short of it is, is that I went to Larnaca because it was a $64 USD flight, and the airport there is a mere four kilometre stroll from where I was staying in the city centre (which is a generous term as it’s more of a big town). Anyway, this legitimately charming seaside place is full of thick-British-accents-on-vacation…with English Brekkie advertised on sandwich boards out front every Greek restaurant…and you legit feel like you’re in an episode of A Place in the Sun there. And Cyprus-as-sun-destination is the real-deal if you want that artifice to be your relaxing reality. And I did…for a few hours…until I wanted to explore the reality of the country.

Why? Well, because 20th century Cyprus was a place of conflict where the now southern / mostly orthodox Greek Cypriot majority wanted Enosis (essentially union with Greece), and the now northern / mostly Muslim Turkish Cypriot minority — in turn — wanted Taksim (partition of the island into Turkish and Greek portions). This difference in vision led to a lot of inter-communal violence (and invasions by external powerbrokers) in Cyprus from the 1960s onwards…which turned the island into a geopolitical gong-show that roped in Greece and Türkiye as well as further embedded the Brits (with their Sovereign-Base-Areas-as-British-Overseas-Territory) and then required the chaperoning of the still-there United Nations.

All you need to know is that Cyprus is an independent country…divided by a United Nations Buffer Zone…where the north is a de facto state known as the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (which is a ‘country’ that only Türkiye recognizes..and why I used the Turkish flag as placeholder in this issue’s ‘post title’…because the TRNC doesn’t have an emoji…’cause it’s formally that informal). And Nicosia, the collective capital of both…is the world's last divided capital city.

If all this mumbo-jumbo is new to you, then you’re probably confused. And while it isn’t new to me (because my fam has a history with the place), it’s still confusing…which is why I did two marathons there; one to the United Nations Buffer Zone and another to the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (much to the dismay of one fam member). ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

While I can’t claim to have seen much of the north, Cyprus is aesthetically unified in those rustic Mediterranean types of abodes that make you drool with envy…and y’know exactly what I’m talking about; those simple, stucco’d cottage bungalows with the colourful vines and the lemon trees and the apricot trees…that likely make you feel like you’re living wrong. Oh, and they’re nestled in little villages and/or along winding roads that cut through arid hay bale fields with to-die-for views of the sea. Like, kill me now and send me to that type of heaven pronto.

Anyway, I first marathoned out to Pyla in the Buffer Zone because it is one of the few communities within the green line, and one where Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots live side-by-side. And it was fascinating; seeing structures devoted to the worship of the cross across the street from structures devoted to the worship of the crescent…as both were surrounded by businesses that strongly advertised their services, promotions, and identities in either Greek or Turkish…and nothing in-between, save for a bit of English.

And on my second marathon, I crossed the Buffer Zone — patrolled by the UN SUVs with da bad branding — to cross the border into the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus for like 15 minutes / to get a doppio. And while there was a mosque there flying both flags (pictured below), Turkish language on signage everywhere, and I had to buy my espresso with four Turkish Lira…the place didn’t feel that different (and that’s not a diss or a co-sign or anything anyone should put any stock in).

However, it was fun to cross the border on foot, and bypass the 20 or so cars in line, and do the same as I exited but this time with a coffee in hand. And while I already said it on social media, I’ll say it again, “Canadian citizen friends, you CANNOT do this ‘over-and-back’ crossing at the Pergamos / Pyla / Dhekylia border in Cyprus…because one crosses south into Britain’s eastern ‘Sovereign Base Area’…and only Cypriots or those with British or EU passports can do this … ‘cause geopolitics is complicated.”

And in closing, I’ll double down: geopolitics is complicated, but marathoning through it is hella interesting. Sorry Dad!

BEST LOCAL THING-Y

Somewhere along Port Said on the outskirts of Khan el-Khalili, someone yelled, “Cool tattoos!” my way. And when I looked over, it had come from one of two adolescent bakers. My guess? It was the one baking with a lit dart hangin’ outta his mouth like a Cairene James Dean. And when I saw him I thought to myself, “If this dude is cooking while smoking a ciggy…then the food has to be good…because this guy doesn’t give a fuck about formalities!”

So I bought a fresh-out-the-oven pita from his teen business partner. And shit, it was legit: perfectly blistered, full of non-idiom hot air, a cornmeal-like bottom, and it had a chewy-stretchy texture that was more paratha than sometimes dry-ass pita. I’m a bread fiend…so this was ultimate mouth pleasure; to chump down on that warm wheat and gnaw on the gluten.

I could’ve eaten fifty of the pitas…they were so good in their simplicity and flawless in their expert execution…but their light flour-dusting immediately made me parched…and this is probably the worst thing to eat when marathoning and already thirsty! But shit, I’d love to grab a flapjack-like pile one day and massacre a tub of hummus with them.

Anyway, small ones are 1 EGP, medium ones are 2 EGP, and big ones are 3 EGP…and I don’t know if those are eff-you tourist prices…but given that such converts to 3¢, 7¢, and 10¢ in USD…who the hell cares?

Moronically, I forget to record what the bakery was called…but that strip of Port Said beside the market is only like a kilometre in length. So you should see the bakery on the east side of the street, and even if you don’t…just look for the teenager baking while taking a toot on his baccy flute.

POBJOY'S GLOBAL PRICE INDEX

This is an on-going documentation of how much things cost in different places around the world. Here are some of the things I bought in Giza, Cairo, and Larnaca (all prices converted to USD):

• General admission to the Great Pyramid in Giza: $7.84

• Plant-based burger and two orders of fries from a restaurant in Cairo: $5.69

• Two bananas, one orange, and one apple from a fruit / veg grocery in Larnaca: $1.66

MARATHON MUSINGS

On the merits of ‘trial by fire’ if you can ‘fire the trial’ next time you’re courted

By foot, Cairo is a test. And some Cairenes wanted to see me fail. But I don’t fault them…because the majority of the perps were young people, and 24% - 39% of them are unemployed (depending on the source, and what one wants to cite).

And look, when people — be they young or old — lack opportunities, they’re gonna search for opportunities, whether they or them are good or bad in nature. And that’s neither here nor there.

But I am here, and I was there. And all I know — is that years ago — marathoning Cairo would’ve flattened me. Like, the non-stop bullshit there would’ve done my head in, and I would’ve packed it in.

Now, I’m not gonna go all ‘tough guy’ and I’m not gonna ‘ego boast’ because the former is self-mythologizing-lacking-fact-checking and the latter is cringe. And because this isn’t about me. Rather, it is about what marathoning — as a practice — has given me.

Essentially, a marathon is just a big 42.195 kilometre problem you have to solve when your mind, body and/or spirit starts to break down. And in my ‘often-done-abroad-freestyle’ version, there’s a litany of lil challenges littered atop the existing big challenge. Y’know, stuff like language barriers and traffic and navigating and sometimes people trying to rob you or attack you or harass you or whatever else.

And, I won’t get into stuff like fortitude and tenacity and resilience and blah blah blah because — for me — marathoning is an elective hobby, and it feels dumbo to get high and mighty about it when others are suffering in real life, and like really demonstrating those aforementioned traits in do-or-die existential tests. And I gotta acknowledge that, while acknowledging that what I do is play-as-leisure.

So respectfully, I’ll just leave it at this:

When it comes to marathons, the more I do, the more I become.

And the more I become, the more I can take.

I don’t know what the point of life is, but I think it has something to do with finding one’s ‘more’, and leaning into that for strength — as well as to stand tall — when life and/or others try to make you weak in the knees.

I’ve volunteered for lots of ‘trial by fire’ on marathons, and I’m glad that I have…‘cause when Cairo involuntarily tested me, the aggregate of all my marathoning put me in a position to fire back.

Some Cairenes foolishly brought but a spark to this doggy-paddler of deep waters, and I fired them — in court, and on their own home court advantage — on the grounds, and on their own local grounds — that they just weren’t up to the job.

But hey, at the end of the day…me and them…we’re both unemployed…so take from this whatever you will.

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